Chapter 12: The Impossible is Possible Tonight
The moment she saw the agent's body snap into action she took off. Her legs ran wildly beneath her as she rocketed across the shore of the lake, away from the madman who pursued her and back in the direction of the entrance. She heard the explosions of a gun somewhere behind her, and felt the vibrations of several bullets fly by her. Jesus jumped up Christ, the killer's got a gun. As the bullets blurred past her, they left several grooved tracks in the thick air around her. She continued to run until the agent caught up to her and tackled her. They tumbled together for several feet, his body clutching to hers as they kicked up clouds of dust and streams of curses. Ixias got in several hooks to the chest and neck, causing the agent to cough and gag. He blocked a few of her punches and grabbed at her arms. He was now pinning the girl to the ground, where he nonchalantly cracked her one, two, three to the face. Blood spilled from her nose in a painful gush and raced to the broken surface of her cheek. She wrenched one arm free and grabbed fiercely at his balls. The agent let loose an animalistic howl, and quickly regaining poise, twisted her arm back to the ground. Tucking her legs underneath her as she wailed in pain and mercy, she frog-kicked the agent. He tumbled backwards off of her, but landed steadily on his feet - far too steadily for anything human. She scrambled to her feet just as a forceful boot to the ribs sent her with a roll through the air several feet forward, ending with a crash to the ground. Amidst the dust Ixias hugged herself tightly, trying to pressurize the unimaginable pain reverberating from her ribcage. She proceeded to crawl limply away from the agent, and saw that there was a chance to escape - she could barely see through the dim light the path which she came in on. If she could only run a little faster, she might have a chance - A sinister, gut-wrenching chuckle broke the dusty silence. The agent was laughing at her - laughing at her pathetic and feeble attempt to fight back, to save herself. She knew damn well how powerful and intelligent he was; she could see it in his fiery eyes, and hear it in his painfully true words. He was a programmed killing machine, and anything more efficient would be something not of this fraction of the universe. But for a brief moment after his laughter faded, the agent actually felt a hint of something deep down in his mechanics. He actually had to respect the girl for her lack of fear and her show of bravado, albeit in a rude and audacious way. Although she had run from him - he understood that any lower life form would have fled in absolute terror from just the sight of him - she had stood up to him for herself and for the dignity of her kind - one of the very purposes of the agent's existence. This would make it all the more rewarding to slay her. She lifelessly staggered away from the lake and towards the edge of the forest. The path was in sight, and if she could make it out of here in one piece, she would forget this ever happened and never take another precious moment for granted again. "Leaving so soon Miss Majicka? Don't you want to see who wins the battle of man and machine? I can assure that you won't leave," he paused, and waited a few moments before finishing his tirade to add emphasis, ".disappointed."
Ixias grunted painfully, a snort of indignation and fury, in the direction of the agent. She would not dignify that with a response, so she broke into the fastest run she could manage - a quick, jagged walk that left her nearly toppling to both the left and right in pain. "You don't fight fair," she sputtered, having only traveled a few yards to the grinning delight of the agent. "You can see clearly that I am unarmed."
"Oh, but that is a lie, my dear. You have two, and that is more than enough to defend your despicable self with." Ixias let loose an enraged growl and turned to face her assaulter. "Why can't you let me go? I can cause no harm to your kind, and you have my word that I will bury this memory forever and never speak of it again. Can you not let me go on understanding alone?" She hesitated. "If you're going to kill me, then do it now and save me this pain that I am undeserving of." Her eyes took on a glossy, lifeless glaze. The agent paused for a moment, never really thinking from the perspective of a lowly human. Ixias on one hand physically did nothing truly deserving of this kind of cat-and-mouse torture. On the other hand, she did everything deserving of her untimely death - she had poked her nose in business that did not concern her. She wanted to learn the truth of the Matrix, and that truth he was to defend to the death - her death. "Your *word* is and will never be more than an empty lie." He paused, looking the disheveled human being up and down. "So be it," The agent muttered grimly, and with a fatal grin he fired in Ixias' direction. She feebly hobbled towards her exit at the sound of the gun, dripping with blood, sweat and dirt. A bullet ripped through the cloud of dust, then two more. One came in contact with her shoulder and she toppled forewords to the dirt. Laying flat on her face, coughing and gasping for breath into the dirt (which only sent more earth funneling into her nose), Ixias rolled over onto her back. Pain emanated from every muscle, joint and bone in her entire body. Blood was still dribbling from her nose, scratches burned and pulsed on her cheeks and legs, the bullet wound screamed with knife-like intensity, and she was weak with fatigue and fear. The agent hovered over her, placing the barrel in the direction of her face. She opened her eyes meekly to him, acknowledging her loss and impending doom. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision to a watery sight. "Please," she whispered softly, so softly the agent almost didn't hear her. His hand trembled momentarily, and in an effort to regain control and composure he cocked the gun and pointed it directly between her eyes. Something startled him momentarily. He wasn't sure if the girl was begging to be spared, or killed with the grace and dignity of a warrior. She had defended herself with honor and valor, which had - for the first time - gained a small amount of his respect. He could not figure out whether this human wished to live or die, and that confusion both enraged and intrigued him. Should he really kill this being? He frowned and found himself unsure of what to do next. The gun hovered in his hand, loaded and ready to violently dispose of this wretched creature. But the look in her eyes sank deep into his mind. He had no soul, so to speak, so he analyzed the fading hazel. The information returned named a complexity of emotions that the agent was not quite sure he understood. Fear and pain he clearly recognized. As for humiliation and dignity, the two were intended to be opposite but were present simultaneously. Was that possible? The most obvious one of all was love. Love? The agent, for a fraction of a moment, tried his best to comprehend this. Even in this dark hour, love was hidden behind the veils of her eyes. Yes, it was love. Love for her life, love for her friends and family, love for her little angel purring softly upon her pillow at home. Love for her neighbors, her job, her landlady, Max, the incredible anomaly she was witnessing. Love. Love for everything around her, except for him. Except for the agent, of course. The agent pondered this. He could understand why she didn't love him - he was, afterall, the program sent to kill her. Who could love something like that? He was dimly aware of a small pang somewhere inside his circuits. What was it? He had never noticed or felt anything like it before. It whispered of an unnamed sentiment, something the agent was never to know of or care for.
He resented the fact that this being had such capacities for emotions and feelings, even upon her deathbed. The agent valued his life and was clearly ready to defend it to the death. This being not only valued her life, but the entire world around her, down to the smallest star in the night sky. He could see the wishes for more than she had been granted in her life in her eyes, and yet she was ready to accept her self-decided fate. It was not him that made her come here, but it was her own . conscience. Conscience. That persistent, nagging feeling of right and wrong. The agent was not programmed to have a conscience. Although there was no voice inside his head, he was still debating whether to destroy her or not. That could count for something far too close to a conscience for comfort. The Miracle Glitch was working its Majick on Agent Smith.
The moment she saw the agent's body snap into action she took off. Her legs ran wildly beneath her as she rocketed across the shore of the lake, away from the madman who pursued her and back in the direction of the entrance. She heard the explosions of a gun somewhere behind her, and felt the vibrations of several bullets fly by her. Jesus jumped up Christ, the killer's got a gun. As the bullets blurred past her, they left several grooved tracks in the thick air around her. She continued to run until the agent caught up to her and tackled her. They tumbled together for several feet, his body clutching to hers as they kicked up clouds of dust and streams of curses. Ixias got in several hooks to the chest and neck, causing the agent to cough and gag. He blocked a few of her punches and grabbed at her arms. He was now pinning the girl to the ground, where he nonchalantly cracked her one, two, three to the face. Blood spilled from her nose in a painful gush and raced to the broken surface of her cheek. She wrenched one arm free and grabbed fiercely at his balls. The agent let loose an animalistic howl, and quickly regaining poise, twisted her arm back to the ground. Tucking her legs underneath her as she wailed in pain and mercy, she frog-kicked the agent. He tumbled backwards off of her, but landed steadily on his feet - far too steadily for anything human. She scrambled to her feet just as a forceful boot to the ribs sent her with a roll through the air several feet forward, ending with a crash to the ground. Amidst the dust Ixias hugged herself tightly, trying to pressurize the unimaginable pain reverberating from her ribcage. She proceeded to crawl limply away from the agent, and saw that there was a chance to escape - she could barely see through the dim light the path which she came in on. If she could only run a little faster, she might have a chance - A sinister, gut-wrenching chuckle broke the dusty silence. The agent was laughing at her - laughing at her pathetic and feeble attempt to fight back, to save herself. She knew damn well how powerful and intelligent he was; she could see it in his fiery eyes, and hear it in his painfully true words. He was a programmed killing machine, and anything more efficient would be something not of this fraction of the universe. But for a brief moment after his laughter faded, the agent actually felt a hint of something deep down in his mechanics. He actually had to respect the girl for her lack of fear and her show of bravado, albeit in a rude and audacious way. Although she had run from him - he understood that any lower life form would have fled in absolute terror from just the sight of him - she had stood up to him for herself and for the dignity of her kind - one of the very purposes of the agent's existence. This would make it all the more rewarding to slay her. She lifelessly staggered away from the lake and towards the edge of the forest. The path was in sight, and if she could make it out of here in one piece, she would forget this ever happened and never take another precious moment for granted again. "Leaving so soon Miss Majicka? Don't you want to see who wins the battle of man and machine? I can assure that you won't leave," he paused, and waited a few moments before finishing his tirade to add emphasis, ".disappointed."
Ixias grunted painfully, a snort of indignation and fury, in the direction of the agent. She would not dignify that with a response, so she broke into the fastest run she could manage - a quick, jagged walk that left her nearly toppling to both the left and right in pain. "You don't fight fair," she sputtered, having only traveled a few yards to the grinning delight of the agent. "You can see clearly that I am unarmed."
"Oh, but that is a lie, my dear. You have two, and that is more than enough to defend your despicable self with." Ixias let loose an enraged growl and turned to face her assaulter. "Why can't you let me go? I can cause no harm to your kind, and you have my word that I will bury this memory forever and never speak of it again. Can you not let me go on understanding alone?" She hesitated. "If you're going to kill me, then do it now and save me this pain that I am undeserving of." Her eyes took on a glossy, lifeless glaze. The agent paused for a moment, never really thinking from the perspective of a lowly human. Ixias on one hand physically did nothing truly deserving of this kind of cat-and-mouse torture. On the other hand, she did everything deserving of her untimely death - she had poked her nose in business that did not concern her. She wanted to learn the truth of the Matrix, and that truth he was to defend to the death - her death. "Your *word* is and will never be more than an empty lie." He paused, looking the disheveled human being up and down. "So be it," The agent muttered grimly, and with a fatal grin he fired in Ixias' direction. She feebly hobbled towards her exit at the sound of the gun, dripping with blood, sweat and dirt. A bullet ripped through the cloud of dust, then two more. One came in contact with her shoulder and she toppled forewords to the dirt. Laying flat on her face, coughing and gasping for breath into the dirt (which only sent more earth funneling into her nose), Ixias rolled over onto her back. Pain emanated from every muscle, joint and bone in her entire body. Blood was still dribbling from her nose, scratches burned and pulsed on her cheeks and legs, the bullet wound screamed with knife-like intensity, and she was weak with fatigue and fear. The agent hovered over her, placing the barrel in the direction of her face. She opened her eyes meekly to him, acknowledging her loss and impending doom. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision to a watery sight. "Please," she whispered softly, so softly the agent almost didn't hear her. His hand trembled momentarily, and in an effort to regain control and composure he cocked the gun and pointed it directly between her eyes. Something startled him momentarily. He wasn't sure if the girl was begging to be spared, or killed with the grace and dignity of a warrior. She had defended herself with honor and valor, which had - for the first time - gained a small amount of his respect. He could not figure out whether this human wished to live or die, and that confusion both enraged and intrigued him. Should he really kill this being? He frowned and found himself unsure of what to do next. The gun hovered in his hand, loaded and ready to violently dispose of this wretched creature. But the look in her eyes sank deep into his mind. He had no soul, so to speak, so he analyzed the fading hazel. The information returned named a complexity of emotions that the agent was not quite sure he understood. Fear and pain he clearly recognized. As for humiliation and dignity, the two were intended to be opposite but were present simultaneously. Was that possible? The most obvious one of all was love. Love? The agent, for a fraction of a moment, tried his best to comprehend this. Even in this dark hour, love was hidden behind the veils of her eyes. Yes, it was love. Love for her life, love for her friends and family, love for her little angel purring softly upon her pillow at home. Love for her neighbors, her job, her landlady, Max, the incredible anomaly she was witnessing. Love. Love for everything around her, except for him. Except for the agent, of course. The agent pondered this. He could understand why she didn't love him - he was, afterall, the program sent to kill her. Who could love something like that? He was dimly aware of a small pang somewhere inside his circuits. What was it? He had never noticed or felt anything like it before. It whispered of an unnamed sentiment, something the agent was never to know of or care for.
He resented the fact that this being had such capacities for emotions and feelings, even upon her deathbed. The agent valued his life and was clearly ready to defend it to the death. This being not only valued her life, but the entire world around her, down to the smallest star in the night sky. He could see the wishes for more than she had been granted in her life in her eyes, and yet she was ready to accept her self-decided fate. It was not him that made her come here, but it was her own . conscience. Conscience. That persistent, nagging feeling of right and wrong. The agent was not programmed to have a conscience. Although there was no voice inside his head, he was still debating whether to destroy her or not. That could count for something far too close to a conscience for comfort. The Miracle Glitch was working its Majick on Agent Smith.